Chapter 178: Spoiled Son

"Of course I didn’t know!" Victor dragged a hand over his face. "That idiot."

"That idiot has just pointed Dorian directly at something we cannot afford for him to examine."

"How much does he know?"

"I don’t know yet."

"That’s not good enough."

"No, Victor, what isn’t good enough is your son using that account like his personal petty-cash drawer. Do you know what Dorian will find if he starts paying close attention to that account? He won’t stop at the payment." Alistair knew his nephew.

Once he sensed someone was hiding something, he became impossible to shake.

"That is exactly why I suggested you have no association with that account for a while," Alistair said. "Nothing that gives anyone a reason to look twice. And now Callum has gone and dragged attention straight toward it. If Dorian finds out, Richard Whitmore will be the least of your problems."

"Believe me, I told Callum to stay away from Dorian," Victor said. "I told him countless times."

Alistair stepped closer.

Normally, he would have handled this conversation differently. With enough polite language to hide the threat underneath.

But Dorian had been dragged from a wrecked car and beaten unconscious because Callum Sterling had the impulse control of a spoiled twelve-year-old.

Alistair was struggling to locate his diplomacy. "Your son had my nephew beaten up. This is not a conversation we should even be having civilly." he held his gaze. "Put your son on a leash."

Victor’s eyes hardened. "As much as I do not condone what Callum has done, you do not threaten me."

"I am not threatening you, Victor. A threat would sound considerably different. If your son comes near my nephew again," Alistair said quietly, "I will have him put in his place. Are we understood?"

"What exactly do you expect me to do? Whitmore is pulling at me from one end, you are pulling at me from the other." Victor ran a hand over his face. "I feel like the puppet in this whole fucking dance."

Alistair had very little sympathy. "Then decide which man you would rather have holding the strings. Who do you think will be your bigger enemy?" he continued. "Richard Whitmore or Dorian heathcliffe? I told you months ago to find out exactly what Whitmore has on you. Give me the problem, and I can make it disappear."

"If I could get it out of him, I would!" Victor’s frustration finally broke through. "You think I enjoy having that man control every decision I make?"

"That depends entirely on what he has."

"And that is the problem. I don’t know how much he has exactly. Besides he claims his fail safes has fail safes. If I get rid of one Whitmore, how many other Whitmore springs up. All he wants is for the girl to marry Callum. That was supposed to solve everything. He wanted Naomi married to Callum. On paper, everything would look completely normal."

"Then there would be an additional clause attached to the marriage documents. Invisible to her." Victor continued, "Once she signed, everything she was entitled to would transfer into Callum’s possession. Callum would then transfer those assets to Whitmore."

That was the larger picture.

Richard wasn’t simply obsessed with who Naomi married. He needed control of whatever belonged to her, and Callum Sterling had been selected as the bridge.

A wealthy, legitimate husband whose involvement would make the transfer look considerably less suspicious.

Victor looked away again, his face tightening with frustration. "It seemed simple at the time until your nephew got involved."

"I do not know how you plan to fix this," Alistair said. "But I cannot antagonise Dorian. So fix it before he ruins you."

With that, he turned and walked out of the house.

His fingers flexed at his sides as he crossed the foyer, the only visible sign of how much anger he was holding back.

Victor remained where he was.

Then the rage hit properly. Hot, ugly, suffocating rage. Not just at Callum but also at himself. Somewhere along the way, he had made this boy.

Every problem money had quietly solved. Every time he had stepped in before Callum ever had to feel the consequences of his own actions.

Victor had spent years convincing himself he was giving his son everything he never had.

Instead, he had raised a spoiled little bastard.

He stormed through the house toward Callum’s wing.

Enough.

It was time for the pussy to learn the hard way.

Victor shoved open the doors.

Callum was sitting comfortably with his laptop balanced across his thighs.

Victor crossed the room.

Callum barely had time to look up before his father snatched the laptop out of his hands. "What the—"

Victor gripped it with both hands and snapped the spine.

The screen cracked. The keyboard twisted.

Callum shot to his feet. "What are you doing?!"

Victor threw the ruined laptop onto the floor. "You stupid, insolent idiot! You had Dorian assaulted?!"

"Yes," Callum said. "Yes, I did."

Victor looked at him in disbelief.

Irritated by the complete lack of remorse behind it.

"And the idiot that you are, you left a paper trail. Congratulations." Victor clapped once, slow and mocking. "You have officially set his sights on us."

Callum scoffed. "So what?"

Victor’s eyes narrowed. "So what?"

"Just kill him already!"

He genuinely wondered whether there was anything inside Callum’s skull besides entitlement and expensive hair products. "Do you think that’s what I do?" Victor snapped. "Go around killing people whenever they inconvenience me? If it were that easy, I wonder why there are so many murderers sitting in prison right now!"

"He’s one man."

"He is Dorian Heathcliffe."

"I don’t care who he is!"

Victor pointed at him. "You don’t care who anyone is because you have never had to. You think money makes consequences disappear. You think I can snap my fingers and remove people from the board every time they get in your way."

"He took Naomi."

Victor laughed bitterly. "You never wanted Naomi!"